My birthday is coming up and we're celebrating it this weekend to avoid bumping into Father's Day and the School's Out craziness later this month.
So, this is a fairly important birthday. As is our family tradition, we will be celebrating all weekend. This one is unique because I am just starting to realize that I don't have much of my 30s left. I want to make this birthday a good one, a memorable one.
I have tossed around all sorts of fun ideas, but at my core, that innermost part of me that says, "I want..." (or in this case, "I need...") there is something unavoidable that is overshadowing all the other "fun" stuff.
I need a clean house.
Yes, yes, I know I posted our homecleaning habits the other day, but I mean *deep clean*, DEEP, the kind of clean where you end up buried in your box of Memorabilia from Childhood and come up a few hours later, 10 lbs lighter and full of rememberances that are so precious.
So, happy birthday to me! I get to do a spring cleaning this weekend!
Update -- I changed my mind. I realized that a clean house would only be a momentary high. I would forget about it in a few weeks, or at the current Rate of Destruction, I would forget about it by Monday when the house returned to it's normal state.
So, I chose to do something memorable that puts a stake in the ground -- spend the weekend finishing up a book I have been on contract for for many years. I won't finish it completely, but I will get it to that point where I can set it on autopilot (where my brain thinks about it during the day and I download the day's work in a short 15-20 minute burst at night).
Back to pounding out this particularly memorable weekend.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
Love-a-lee Chores
We hit upon a method that works for our kids -- it teaches time management, estimation, and best of all, teamwork over competition.
We work as a team, starting with one room, usually the front room. On a legal pad, I make a short list of what needs to be done:
Pick stuff up off floor
Vacuum floor
Shake out rugs
Clean windows
Dust
Clean couch
Org book shelves
Then I ask the kids, "How long do you think this will take if we all work together?" They each chime in with their time estimate:
E 10 min
C 7 min
V 15 min
K 12 min
J 9 min
A 14 min
Then we set the timer and *go for it*! Their ability to estimate time and task length has really improved. I think it may help them with project management later. If nothing else, they are learning to deal with what happens when estimates are off, w-a-y off. (For example, we always underestimate how long the office will take -- all those little corners where stuff can hide.)
There are two "awards": 1. best estimate, 2. best dedication to the task. Each award is $1 and they work pretty hard for that dollar.
Then we move on to the next room and start the process over again, improving our skills incrementally.
There is definitely an element of competition, but it is appropriately placed -- it fuels them to work harder and faster. The overall goal is the success of the team. They grab whatever cleaning task that needs to be done and when they finish that, they help someone else. Everyone needs to help everyone else. That's the best part.
So, for now, I have a method that works. Seems like this is Chore Method #143, but it is working with this particular group of kids at this particular developmental phase.
And I have a relatively clean house. It is so divinely satisfying to be able to say that at least once a week.
We work as a team, starting with one room, usually the front room. On a legal pad, I make a short list of what needs to be done:
Pick stuff up off floor
Vacuum floor
Shake out rugs
Clean windows
Dust
Clean couch
Org book shelves
Then I ask the kids, "How long do you think this will take if we all work together?" They each chime in with their time estimate:
E 10 min
C 7 min
V 15 min
K 12 min
J 9 min
A 14 min
Then we set the timer and *go for it*! Their ability to estimate time and task length has really improved. I think it may help them with project management later. If nothing else, they are learning to deal with what happens when estimates are off, w-a-y off. (For example, we always underestimate how long the office will take -- all those little corners where stuff can hide.)
There are two "awards": 1. best estimate, 2. best dedication to the task. Each award is $1 and they work pretty hard for that dollar.
Then we move on to the next room and start the process over again, improving our skills incrementally.
There is definitely an element of competition, but it is appropriately placed -- it fuels them to work harder and faster. The overall goal is the success of the team. They grab whatever cleaning task that needs to be done and when they finish that, they help someone else. Everyone needs to help everyone else. That's the best part.
So, for now, I have a method that works. Seems like this is Chore Method #143, but it is working with this particular group of kids at this particular developmental phase.
And I have a relatively clean house. It is so divinely satisfying to be able to say that at least once a week.
Lack of sweats
When I was a younger, I wished that I could get out of my sweats more often. I dreamed of dressing up every day instead of pattering around in sweat pants day after day after casual day.
Over the years, my closet has changed.
Drastically.
Thanks to an unusually hectic morning, I had my "morning" shower mid-day. This prompted an atypical desire for a comfy pair of sweats to tide me over until a meeting later. I looked in my closet (which is literally two feet wide) and realized... gasp! I don't own any sweats.
I actually don't own a single pair of sweats.
Hallelujah!
Over the years, my closet has changed.
Drastically.
Thanks to an unusually hectic morning, I had my "morning" shower mid-day. This prompted an atypical desire for a comfy pair of sweats to tide me over until a meeting later. I looked in my closet (which is literally two feet wide) and realized... gasp! I don't own any sweats.
I actually don't own a single pair of sweats.
Hallelujah!
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Care for my own
We have been debated (heartily) over whether or not to hire a housekeeper. We would dearly love to, but we're at the tipping point between:
* whether it's good for the kids to learn basic household upkeep tasks (and there's a lot to learn & learning it well requires years of repetition)
* whether it's distracting us from more important tasks.
The current line of thought is this: A housekeeper is approx $500/mo. A ticket for a cruise is about $1,000. Two months of doing our own housework buys one ticket. A year's worth of doing our own housework buys us six tickets, enough for the whole family. It is a highly motivated thought for the kids (and for me!) so for now we're doing our own chores.
I'll blog about the How later on today... Stay tuned.
* whether it's good for the kids to learn basic household upkeep tasks (and there's a lot to learn & learning it well requires years of repetition)
* whether it's distracting us from more important tasks.
The current line of thought is this: A housekeeper is approx $500/mo. A ticket for a cruise is about $1,000. Two months of doing our own housework buys one ticket. A year's worth of doing our own housework buys us six tickets, enough for the whole family. It is a highly motivated thought for the kids (and for me!) so for now we're doing our own chores.
I'll blog about the How later on today... Stay tuned.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The Legacy Walk
There is one particularly meaningful tree-lined street in Berkeley where the trees reach out high above your head. The foliage is lush and the stately houses represent the archetypical home-as-nest. In particular, the trees give the road an other-worldly feel and time stops for me every time I am on this street.
I first walked this street with a friend from my church -- she is a few decades older than me but she is faster, wiser, and far more knowledgeable. Walking with her is like walking with a tour guide who would make you milk and cookies afterwards. I adore her.
The first time I walked with her, she showed me streets I had never seen before. One particular street has now become our own personal "Legacy Road". While my friend didn't suggest the following activity, her views influenced it.
Here's how the Legacy Road works (with the background thrown in for flavor): A few months ago, we were having a fuzzy, directionless Sunday, so I asked the rest of the family to watch themselves (please) because "I need to show Kee his legacy." This confused them long enough to let me slip out the door with Kee in tow. Kee is 15 yo, old enough and wise enough to sense that his Mama had something bizarre up her sleeve. I had "that look" in my eye.
We went to Legacy Road (Mariposa, one block E of Shattuck, near the top of Solano) and positioned ourselves at the southwest corner of the street. (It has to start on that particular spot). I turned Kee to face "up" the road, looking forward at the massive expanse of foliage, surrounded by homes of prestige and elegance. His eyes widened and I said:
"This is your life, my son. The road symbolizes the span of your lifetime. You start here, with this first step, and at the end of the road, you die. But first, tell me about your childhood... What do you remember?"
He started with his first memories, then elementary, middle, high school. As a concrete metaphor, we noted the trees, their age and beauty, how they had been pruned (just as he had in his life) and noted that every tree, even though it had been given identical care as its neighbor, had grown differently. Choice. It's all about choice. He reflected on his many choices and naturally began to evaluate his past.
When we got to the north end of Mariposa, he gave me a nervous look, "What did you say about dying at the end of the road?"
I laughed. Whoops. "This is a metaphor honey. Let's cross the street. You die at the end, when we have made a full circle. Up one side of the street and down the other. Past (gesturing to the direction we had come) and future (gesturing to the other side of the street). You just walked your past. Now you're crossing through the present moment to your future."
As we crossed the street, he had a wild little smile on his face. He stood at the upper end of the tree-lined street with his jaw slightly dropped, realizing that his entire life was ahead of him, in extreme, concrete terms, it was HIS to choose. We began talking about what he might want at 16, 20, 25, 30... Where he wanted to travel; what he wanted in an eternal mate; what type of house he wanted to own; what type of job... all the visions and dreams were beginning to bud. He was embracing the expansive richness of his future. The trees were so perfectly symbolic -- their thick trunks and sturdy branches.
He thought most carefully about the career choices. His focus was on: "How can I contribute most meaningfully?" and "What can I do that would generate the most lasting personal joy?"
I didn't give any answers -- just kept him on topic.
The questions shifted to, "What about when you're 35, 40, 45, 50...?" inconceivable ages for teenagers. His eyes showed a glimmer of understanding that life is much, much longer than he originally thought. It was like unrolling a ball of yarn. Each step he took, took him closer to "being EOL" (end of life, a term used in the computer hardware industry) There was an end. Gasp.
His steps slowed. The steps he had walked so quickly (childhood, early adulthood) now seemed more precious, more important and I could tell he wished that he would have gone just a little slower.
And then we got to "the spot". On the ground in front of one particularly beautiful home near the end of the east side of the street is painted on the sidewalk: "The Legacy". Someone must have painted it there a long time ago. Who knows why? I stopped; he froze.
I asked, "What will be your legacy? What will you leave behind?"
His hair shifted as he looked back up the road, the realization dawning that he had only a limited amount of time to build a life. His smile was golden.
I haven't walked Legacy Road for myself yet, but I took my eldest to walk it after his PatB and I took my husband to walk it today. It is such an awe-inspiring experience.
My favorite part is seeing that little flicker of expression that says, "Walk slower."
Walk slower...
I first walked this street with a friend from my church -- she is a few decades older than me but she is faster, wiser, and far more knowledgeable. Walking with her is like walking with a tour guide who would make you milk and cookies afterwards. I adore her.
The first time I walked with her, she showed me streets I had never seen before. One particular street has now become our own personal "Legacy Road". While my friend didn't suggest the following activity, her views influenced it.
Here's how the Legacy Road works (with the background thrown in for flavor): A few months ago, we were having a fuzzy, directionless Sunday, so I asked the rest of the family to watch themselves (please) because "I need to show Kee his legacy." This confused them long enough to let me slip out the door with Kee in tow. Kee is 15 yo, old enough and wise enough to sense that his Mama had something bizarre up her sleeve. I had "that look" in my eye.
We went to Legacy Road (Mariposa, one block E of Shattuck, near the top of Solano) and positioned ourselves at the southwest corner of the street. (It has to start on that particular spot). I turned Kee to face "up" the road, looking forward at the massive expanse of foliage, surrounded by homes of prestige and elegance. His eyes widened and I said:
"This is your life, my son. The road symbolizes the span of your lifetime. You start here, with this first step, and at the end of the road, you die. But first, tell me about your childhood... What do you remember?"
He started with his first memories, then elementary, middle, high school. As a concrete metaphor, we noted the trees, their age and beauty, how they had been pruned (just as he had in his life) and noted that every tree, even though it had been given identical care as its neighbor, had grown differently. Choice. It's all about choice. He reflected on his many choices and naturally began to evaluate his past.
When we got to the north end of Mariposa, he gave me a nervous look, "What did you say about dying at the end of the road?"
I laughed. Whoops. "This is a metaphor honey. Let's cross the street. You die at the end, when we have made a full circle. Up one side of the street and down the other. Past (gesturing to the direction we had come) and future (gesturing to the other side of the street). You just walked your past. Now you're crossing through the present moment to your future."
As we crossed the street, he had a wild little smile on his face. He stood at the upper end of the tree-lined street with his jaw slightly dropped, realizing that his entire life was ahead of him, in extreme, concrete terms, it was HIS to choose. We began talking about what he might want at 16, 20, 25, 30... Where he wanted to travel; what he wanted in an eternal mate; what type of house he wanted to own; what type of job... all the visions and dreams were beginning to bud. He was embracing the expansive richness of his future. The trees were so perfectly symbolic -- their thick trunks and sturdy branches.
He thought most carefully about the career choices. His focus was on: "How can I contribute most meaningfully?" and "What can I do that would generate the most lasting personal joy?"
I didn't give any answers -- just kept him on topic.
The questions shifted to, "What about when you're 35, 40, 45, 50...?" inconceivable ages for teenagers. His eyes showed a glimmer of understanding that life is much, much longer than he originally thought. It was like unrolling a ball of yarn. Each step he took, took him closer to "being EOL" (end of life, a term used in the computer hardware industry) There was an end. Gasp.
His steps slowed. The steps he had walked so quickly (childhood, early adulthood) now seemed more precious, more important and I could tell he wished that he would have gone just a little slower.
And then we got to "the spot". On the ground in front of one particularly beautiful home near the end of the east side of the street is painted on the sidewalk: "The Legacy". Someone must have painted it there a long time ago. Who knows why? I stopped; he froze.
I asked, "What will be your legacy? What will you leave behind?"
His hair shifted as he looked back up the road, the realization dawning that he had only a limited amount of time to build a life. His smile was golden.
I haven't walked Legacy Road for myself yet, but I took my eldest to walk it after his PatB and I took my husband to walk it today. It is such an awe-inspiring experience.
My favorite part is seeing that little flicker of expression that says, "Walk slower."
Walk slower...
Friday, May 16, 2008
Bike to Work
Yesterday was Bike to Work day in the Bay (in the US? world? I have no idea). Eee was able to get his bike out and hooked up to the tandem so Aee could ride behind him with her wild hair trailing and her little voice yelling, "Faster, Daddy! Faster!". Jee was on his own bike, fully capable of a full day's ride, looking all four ways at each intersection, so competent.
Mee? My bike is locked to the trampoline and I can't find the key.
So, since I'm not a sissy, I ran alongside the bikes, panting like a dog, trying to keep up. The entire time I'm wondering if it's worse to be a sissy or an out-of-breath, stinky dog?
We crossed paths with a guy from church, an exceptionally physically fit guy who wasn't even breaking a sweat even though it was 98 degrees already (actually, it only felt like 98). He smiled and was polite.
But wow, my legs were aching. Last night I went on a long run with Sum 41, Chuck album blasting on my iPod which makes me run far faster than my body would naturally allow. When I pulled into the homestretch, Vee came out of the house and bellowed, "Mom, let's go for a run!" He had just gotten home and needed to stretch his legs.
Of course, I eeked out a, "Sure!"
What an idiot. I am so sore.
So, I did Round 2, running the loop, well, half the loop since Vee noticed my face was an odd combination of purple and white. But we still did the homestretch sprint and it felt great.
Then the next morning I got a good run in... and tonight I'll surely go for one again since I'll already be so sweaty from this heat wave that I won't care if I get even slimier.
So why don't I look like a runner yet??
One of life's mysteries, I guess. A cruel one, though.
Mee? My bike is locked to the trampoline and I can't find the key.
So, since I'm not a sissy, I ran alongside the bikes, panting like a dog, trying to keep up. The entire time I'm wondering if it's worse to be a sissy or an out-of-breath, stinky dog?
We crossed paths with a guy from church, an exceptionally physically fit guy who wasn't even breaking a sweat even though it was 98 degrees already (actually, it only felt like 98). He smiled and was polite.
But wow, my legs were aching. Last night I went on a long run with Sum 41, Chuck album blasting on my iPod which makes me run far faster than my body would naturally allow. When I pulled into the homestretch, Vee came out of the house and bellowed, "Mom, let's go for a run!" He had just gotten home and needed to stretch his legs.
Of course, I eeked out a, "Sure!"
What an idiot. I am so sore.
So, I did Round 2, running the loop, well, half the loop since Vee noticed my face was an odd combination of purple and white. But we still did the homestretch sprint and it felt great.
Then the next morning I got a good run in... and tonight I'll surely go for one again since I'll already be so sweaty from this heat wave that I won't care if I get even slimier.
So why don't I look like a runner yet??
One of life's mysteries, I guess. A cruel one, though.
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